“No. It’s my idea of how to make you blend in with a busload of American tourists.”
“Where in God’s name did you find them in Wurzburg?”
“I found them on a couple of back-packing teenagers looking for some ready cash.”
For the first time, Lacy looked at her surroundings. They were in a crowd of milling tourists.
A woman raised a closed umbrella on high and said, “This way, ladies and gentleman. Our bus is waiting just outside the gates.”
Remaining well in the middle of the crowd following the umbrella, Max and Lacy reached the tour bus undetected.
Once the bus was under way, Max said, “I don’t understand how they keep finding you. What’s left they could’ve traced you by?”
He studied her from her baseball capped head to her beautifully clad feet.
“Your shoes.”
“What?”
“They’re all that’s left that could be bugged. Give me your shoes.”
“Not my Ferragamos. No way!”
Reaching down, Max took first one shoe and then the other and broke the heels off. In the left shoe he found it and held it up for her to see.
Without speaking, he opened the window of the bus and tossed the small disc out.
Lacy sighed. “What am I supposed to do for shoes now?”
Max looked up and down the aisles. His eyes lit on a young woman, probably a college student, as the most likely candidate. Lacy watched as he went up the aisle and leaned over to speak with her. A few moments later the girl took off her shoes and handed them to Max, quickly pocketing two hundred euros he handed her in exchange. She then reached into her backpack, extracted a pair of sandals and put them on her feet.
Wordlessly he handed the running shoes to Lacy. As she put them on her feet she shook her head and asked “How’d you know they’d fit?”
“My superior observation skills,” he answered. “But even if they hadn’t fit you’d have had to wear them. They were the best I could do in this crowd.”
He yawned. “And whatever else happens, tonight I’m going to sleep in a bed.” He settled back in his seat and closed his eyes.
Lacy, exhausted from a combination of lack of sleep the preceding two nights and her enforced run through the streets of Wurzburg, was unable to close her eyes. The adrenaline rush of the last hour was still with her. And, she admitted to herself, Max’s kiss hadn’t helped.
She stared out the window at the passing scenery. They seemed to be heading roughly southwest, on a road that twisted and turned following the Tauber River. She gazed out the window as they passed through valleys where the mist obliterated the countryside and over high hills where the sun broke through, bathing everything in an almost blinding iridescent light. It was a gently beautiful countryside.
Bracing herself at a particularly sharp turn, Lacy looked up to see town walls emerge above the mist, high, forbidding stone and mortar and ancient wood, clinging to the side of a steep hill. Beyond the walls, she could see peaked rooftops uniformly clothed in red tile. Rothenburg. A completely walled medieval town, preserved exactly as it was in the fourteen and fifteen hundreds. The jewel of the Romantische Strasse, and her first destination. She breathed a sigh of relief. She was here.
As the bus continued on, Lacy saw newer houses outside the walls, but even these were designed to reflect the unique architecture of their older neighbors.
They pulled into a parkplaz.
Max woke with a start and rubbed his eyes. “Ah. I see we’re here.”
The tour guide stood. “We have two hours here, ladies and gentlemen. I advise you to stay with me.”
The guide stepped out of the bus and raised her unopened umbrella high. Lacy watched the other occupants of the bus follow, as the guide walked briskly toward the Rödertur, one of the four gates into the city. She turned to Max. “What do we do now?”
“Stay with the tour group.” Max took Lacy by the arm and moved into the middle of the crowd.
Surrounded by chattering tourists taking pictures of everything in sight, they strolled up a wide cobblestone street, past tall pastel houses—pink, yellow, blue, apricot, and green. No two were alike except for their immense size, the evenness of their paired windows, and their steep peaked roofs. Flower boxes brimmed over with geraniums. The lower floors of most houses had been converted into shops or restaurants.
Then they were in a wide square with the Rathaus, the old seat of the government, on the one side and the clock tower on the other.
As the guide gathered her flock around her and began her spiel, Max took Lacy by the hand and led her across the square to another street. Lacy saw the name Herrengasse lettered in old German on the street sign. They went past a shop with wide windows filled with beautifully crafted wooden Christmas ornaments. Lacy tried to linger, but Max pulled her along.
“We need to get out of sight,” he said. “And I need food and sleep, in that order.”
“Okay. I guess you’re right. I don’t think I could pull off another sprint today.”
Across from a large stone church, Max stopped in front of the Hotel Meistertrunk. “I’ve stayed here before. It’s a comfortable place.”
The innkeeper offered them adjoining rooms on the top floor and led them to a minuscule elevator.
“I’m surprised you were able to install an elevator in a building this historic,” Lacy commented to the middle-aged man.
“It wasn’t easy,” he replied. “This building was built in the tenth century. Renovated in the seventeenth. And then renovated again when we converted it into an inn.”
The elevator doors opened to a large square drawing room.
“Watch your step. The floor’s a bit uneven here,” he said. “This is where the mistress of the house used to entertain her women friends. Some of the furniture’s original.”
Lacy looked around. Why would anyone would choose a room in the middle of the house, a room with no windows, no natural light, for entertaining guests?
“It was the warmest room,” he answered her unasked question. “Here we are.” He unlocked the door with a large, old-fashioned iron key. The room was bright, with two windows open, their lace curtains fluttering in the breeze. There was a view across the ancient rooftops to the valley below.
“It’s lovely,” Lacy said.
Max’s room was next door and was a mirror image of hers.
****
When the manager had left them, Max said, “Let’s go downstairs and have something to eat before anything else. Then we’ll have a bit of a rest before we try to locate your contact here.”
“Food’s a fine idea, but I’ll deal with finding my contact myself.” Her voice sounded determined. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate your help, Max. It’s just this is something I need to do alone.”
Max sighed. “As you wish. Let’s go eat.”
In the restaurant Max ordered for them. A thick soup to be followed by apple fritters and gluhwein.
“What’s gluhwein?” she asked as she spooned up her soup.
“You’ll see.”
Moments later the steaming mugs of sweet spicy mulled wine were placed in front of them. Max watched Lacy with pleasure as she took a sip and then another. In moments her mug was empty.
“Another, please.”
“That stuff’s stronger than you realize,” Max said. “You sure you want more?”
“Yes. Quite sure.”
The waitress appeared with two heaping plates of battered, deep fried apple rings liberally sprinkled with powdered sugar. At a nod from Max, she refilled Lacy’s glass.
“You like the apples?” Max savored the sweet confection as it melted in his mouth.
“I’ve never eaten anything quite so good in my life.” Her second cup of wine disappeared and was refilled as she ploughed through her own apples and then stole some from Max’s plate.
Max watched her, an amused smile hovering on his lips. He ate lightly and was still nursing his first m
ug of mulled wine when Lacy pushed her chair back.
“That was delicious,” she said. Only it came out “delish-hush.” She stood and wobbled.
Max quickly came around the table and put his arm around her waist. “Up to bed. I think you need to sleep this off.”
He signaled to the waitress and signed the bill, while supporting Lacy.
When they reached her room, Lacy reached up and kissed him full on the mouth, a sweet, lingering, wine-flavored kiss.
Max shuddered. He opened the door with her key, and she coaxed him into the room.
“Stay with me.” She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her body against his.
He took a deep breath. “I don’t think so. You need to sleep this off.” He gently disentangled himself from her encircling arms and sat her down on her bed. She immediately fell sideways onto the pillow. Max took her runners off, placed her feet on the bed, and covered her with the duvet.
He sighed. What had he gotten himself into? Falling in love with Igor Telchev’s widow had been no part of his assignment.
Chapter Six
It was six o’clock when Lacy awoke to the clamoring of church bells. Her head hammered in time with the sound. She tried to sit up and fell back on the bed. What in God’s name was wrong with her? She arose more carefully this time, holding on to her bedside table. So far so good. The breeze, so pleasant coming in through her windows at three in the afternoon, now carried with it a distinct chill. She moved across to her windows to close them. Glancing down she saw the sun had long set and dusk was cloaking the town. Lights were springing up behind lace curtained windows.
Her mouth tasted as if she had been chewing on old shoes. She went into the bathroom and cleaned her teeth, then decided she needed a shower.
She was feeling a bit better, contemplating with distaste the only clothes she had, when Max knocked at her door.
“Lacy?”
“Give me five minutes.”
She looked from the Mickey Mouse fleecy to her wrinkled tan Tilly shirt and opted for the latter. Then she remembered the wind coming through her window and pulled the fleecy on over her shirt.
Her head was pounding. Aspirin. Surely she must have some aspirin in her purse. She rummaged through it to no avail. Maybe Max had some.
When she opened her room door, he was leaning against the wall. In one hand he had a small glass filled with a clear liquid. He handed it to her. “Drink,” he said. “Think of it as medicine.”
She looked from Max to the shot glass, back to Max.
“You have a headache?” he asked.
Numbly Lacy nodded, the very action hurting.
“Drink.”
She took the proffered glass and swallowed the fiery alcohol in one gulp that left her gasping for breath.
When she stopped sputtering, she asked, “What on earth was that?”
“Schnapps. Just sit down for a moment and let it do its work.” He led her to an ancient carved wooden bench placed along the wall of the large center room. “You had quite a bit to drink at lunch time.”
As she revived, it began to come back. Lunch. Apple fritters and mulled wine. And after lunch…
“What happened after lunch?” she asked, afraid of the answer.
“You mean you don’t remember?” He sounded hurt, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “How could you not remember?” He leaned into her and kissed her insinuatingly.
Lacy pushed him away and put her head in her hands. “No. Oh, no.”
Max took her hands away from her face and looked into her eyes, dead serious. “Nothing happened between us after lunch, Lacy. There are rules about that sort of thing. I promise you when…that is…if we make love, it will not be when you’ve had too much to drink.”
“You beast.” Lacy pummeled him with her fists. “You let me think …”
“Feeling better now?” he asked, laughing, catching her hands in his and holding them.
Lacy realized indeed she did feel better. She felt fine.
She looked down at herself. “Clothes. I need to go shopping.”
“Too late now, I’m afraid. The shops are all closed.” He smiled. “But I knew you’d want something to replace Mickey Mouse so I got you…”
“What? What did you get?” Then she saw the voluminous bag on the bench, beside him.
She pulled out a full-skirted dirndl, a low-necked blouse with lacy sleeves, and a heavy sweater embroidered with little white flowers. There was even a set of lace trimmed bloomers and a sort of tucked camisole undershirt. The outfit was completed by knee-high white socks and low heeled black pumps with pewter buckles. “I’m supposed to wear these?” she asked, horrified. “I’ll look like an escapee from The Student Prince.”
“I thought you’d be pleased.” His mouth twitched at the corners as he attempted to smother his laughter. “Hey, don’t knock it. By the time I got out, the shops were closed. The waitress I bought these from said they were nearly new, and they’re sparkling clean.”
Lacy joined in his laughter. “Give me ten minutes. I’m going to change into these and throw everything else away.”
“Maybe you’d just better wash the old things tonight instead. You might need them.”
“Good point. Except for the rodent. He has to go.”
****
When she emerged from her room again, dressed in her new uber-Bavarian clothing, Max audibly caught his breath.
“You look good enough to eat,” he said, “operetta costume and all.”
A short time later they walked out into the early evening arm in arm chatting and laughing. Lacy realized she was almost happy. It had been so long since she’d been happy.
Over dinner, Max brought up the reason for their being in Rothenburg. “You have to meet someone here. Who and where?”
“I can’t tell you, Max. This is something entrusted to me. I have to do it alone.”
“Okay. I understand. It’s just that every time I leave you alone, bad things seem to happen.”
“I’ll be careful. And I’ll take my phone. I’ll call you if I need you.”
“How are you supposed to contact this person?”
“I have a name and a phone number. When we get back to the hotel tonight, I’ll call her and try to arrange a meeting for tomorrow.”
Max noted the reference to “her.” The contact was a woman. Somehow that made him feel better about the coming meeting. Nevertheless, he would be following Lacy when she set out tomorrow to meet her informant. Can’t be too careful, he figured.
****
“Inga Graff? This is Lacy Telchev.”
There was a brief silence on the other end of the phone. Then there was what sounded like a deep sigh. “Igor is dead.” It was a statement, an acceptance of a new reality, not a question.
“Yes.” Lacy wished she could have imparted this news more gently, in person, not over the phone. Clearly this woman had cared for Igor. Her voice softened. “I’m so sorry to tell you the news this way. He died in March. A second heart attack.”
“A heart attack? Are you sure?” Lacy could hear the doubt in Inga’s voice. “When last I saw him he appeared to be in good health.” She sighed. “But I know he was afraid of someone or something.”
“I’m not sure about anything. I only know he left me instructions to see you. He said you’d have something for me.”
Inga was silent for a moment. Then, “Have you been followed?”
“Yes. But I think we’ve shaken them off.”
“We?” Inga spoke sharply.
It had been on the tip of her tongue to mention Max, but something in Inga’s tone made Lacy change her mind. “A traveling companion, only. I’ll be alone when I come to meet you.”
Again Inga seemed to hesitate before speaking. Then she rushed into speech. “Someone, a man, was here at my house yesterday asking after you.”
“A man? What man?” Lacy’s pulse raced. She took a deep breath and tried to stem her fear. How cou
ld they have found her so quickly?
“I don’t know. He didn’t give me his name. He was very attractive and quite polite.”
That was not a description Lacy would have used to describe either of the two men who’d been pursuing her. She thought about Max and his interest in what she was doing. But it couldn’t have been Max. He’d been with her. Besides, he didn’t have Inga’s name and address.
“What did you tell this man?”
“I said I’d never heard of you. He must have mistaken the name or address. Graff is a common German name. I don’t think he believed me. I don’t know what this is all about, but I do know you must come alone, or we won’t meet.”
“I have no idea who it was,” Lacy said, “but when I meet you, I assure you I’ll be alone.”
“Tomorrow then, under the clock tower.” The woman’s voice was flat and decisive. “How will I know you?”
“You can’t miss me. I’m the redhead dressed like an escapee from The Sound of Music.”
“What?”
“Never mind. You’ll see. What time?”
“Noon,” Inga replied. “There’ll be crowds of tourists there at that time of day. We can perhaps avoid undue notice.”
“But how will I know you?”
“You won’t. If I think it’s safe, I’ll approach you. I’ll touch your arm without speaking. Just follow me.”
Lacy cut the connection. More cloak and dagger. It should be laughable, but somehow it wasn’t. She felt a shiver of apprehension.
****
Max was very quiet the next morning as they had their breakfast together in the dining room. “You will be careful?” he reiterated.
“Of course. Those men haven’t followed me here, Max. We lost them in Wurzburg. For all they know I could be anyplace now. There’s nothing to lead them to Rothenburg.” For some reason she couldn’t bring herself to mention Inga Graff’s unexpected caller.
Max looked doubtful. “You have your phone?”
“Yes, of course.
“You’ve memorized my number?”
“Yes, Max. Stop acting like a mother sending her six-year-old off to the first day of school.”
Max laughed. “That’s a pretty good description of how I feel.”
Romantic Road Page 9
